irreligious notions are to be brought forward to people who
are quite satisfied with their own, we can only say that this lady is
the representative of a vast class of her countrymen, whom the wits and
philosophers of the eighteenth century have brought to this condition.
The leaves of the Diderot and Rousseau tree have produced this goodly
fruit: here it is, ripe, bursting, and ready to fall;--and how to fall?
Heaven send that it may drop easily, for all can see that the time is
come.

THE CASE OF PEYTEL:

IN A LETTER TO EDWARD BRIEFLESS, ESQUIRE, OF PUMP COURT, TEMPLE.

PARIS, November, 1839.

MY DEAR BRIEFLESS,--Two months since, when the act of accusation first
appeared, containing the sum of the charges against Sebastian Peytel,
all Paris was in a fervor on the subject. The man's trial speedily
followed, and kept for three days the public interest wound up to a
painful point. He was found guilty of double murder at the beginning
of September; and, since that time, what with Maroto's disaffection
and Turkish news, we have had leisure to forget Monsieur Peytel, and to
occupy ourselves with [Greek text omitted]. Perhaps Monsieur de Balzac
helped to smother what little sparks of interest might still have
remained for the murderous notary. Balzac put forward a letter in his
favor, so very long, so very dull, so very pompous, promising so much,
and performing so little, that the Parisian public gave up Peytel and
his case altogether; nor was it until to-day that some small feeling
was raised concerning him, when the newspapers brought the account how
Peytel's head had been cut off at Bourg.

He had gone through the usual miserable ceremonies and delays which
attend what is called, in this country, the march of justice. He had
made his appeal to the Court of Cassation, which had taken time to
consider the verdict of the Provincial Court, and had confirmed it. He
had made his appeal for mercy; his poor sister coming up all the way
from Bourg (a sad journey, poor thing!) to have an interview with the
King, who had refused to see her. Last Monday morning, at nine o'clock,
an hour before Peytel's breakfast, the Greffier of Assize Court, in
company with the Cure of Bourg, waited on him, and informed him that he
had only three hours to live. At twelve o'clock, Peytel's head was off
his body: an executioner from Lyons had come over the night before, to
assist the professional throat-cutter of Bourg.

I am not goi